Happy Birthday
by sprinkledwithpearls
Summary: ."He remembered exactly what had occurred on this day... years ago in his home... the last birthday he had spent with his family, ever." Erik remembers a childhood birthday. A sad little one-shot with a twist or two.


**Happy Birthday**

By: _sprinkledwithpearls_

Author's Note:** Well, it's my first phantom phic. I hope I do well. (:  
Inspiration for this one came to me randomly. I wondered- what was Erik's birthday like as a child?  
And here is your answer, dear friends. The story begins when Erik is 15. Why 15, you ask? I'm not sure. Oh, well, just read. Enjoy(: **

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Erik rarely remembered any specific dates from his childhood.

He had always tried to forget. He pushed those horrific memories to the back of his mind, trying with all of his might never to think of them until they haunted his dreams in the night. Now, at the age of 15, most of his toddler days were just a blurred memory. He sometimes saw glimpses of the whip coming down on him, his own father's wicked smile, or the terrifying gypsies that still caused him to scream in the dead of the night.

But he remembered exactly what had occurred on this day, eight years ago in his home, the last birthday he had spent with his family, ever.

It was a bright, sunny day, and little Erik was not surprisingly up at the crack of dawn. The young boy knew today was a special day. Over and over again, his twin brother had told him "Tomorrow's my birthday!" Erik knew that he and his brother were twins, but he did not know that they both had a birthday. He had assumed that he didn't have a birthday. He couldn't have one. After all, he never got any Christmas presents, besides a mask that he was required to wear. Erik never got to hunt for Easter eggs, either. Instead, he watched quietly as his brother greedily filled his basket with speckled eggs of pale yellow, pink and blue.

Today, he had decided to do something extraordinary for William. Maybe if he did so, then William would be nice and even share some of his toys with him, Erik hoped. Erik didn't have any toys. His mother had just said that he didn't deserve any, and that he was far too hideous to play with toys.

Erik was a very smart young boy, even at the age of six (seven in a few hours). He already knew how to cook, and he learned on his own mathematics and how to read, by sneaking his brother's school books into his room at night. His parents wouldn't allow him to go to school, no matter how much he begged.

Gingerly, Erik poured a small amount of batter into a pan, and then stepped down from his stepping stool. He was making pancakes for William, with chocolate chips. He knew that they were his favorite.

Erik hummed the tune of happy birthday under his breath, substituting William's name in at the end.

The sweet-smelling aroma filled the kitchen and eventually crept around the corner and into Erik's mom and dad's room. Hypnotized by the smell of fresh pancakes, his mother entered the kitchen, stunned to find Erik cooking.

"Mommy, I'm making William pancakes. It's his birthday, you know," Erik stated matter-of-factly.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Of course I know that, you stupid child. And who gave you permission to use my cooking utensils?"

Erik immediately dropped the whisk he was stirring with and fear covered his eyes. He knew that he was in trouble. He could sense it in his mother's voice.

"I'm sorry, Mommy, I promise I will clean it all up. Please, don't be mad," he pleaded, only innocence and alarm apparent in his voice.

"Fine," she snapped. "After breakfast, though, you need to stay in your room the rest of the day. William is having some friends over, and none of them want to spend their time with you."

Erik was silent. How he longed for friends. He wanted more than anything just to have someone to talk to. He didn't understand why he couldn't have a friend. Just one, he wanted. Just one.

After breakfast, Erik walked slowly up the stairs to retreat to his room. William hadn't even bothered to thank him for his pancakes. Erik had hoped that maybe, just maybe, William would invite Erik to stay at his party. But of course, that did not happen.

Erik sat uncomfortably on his bed, humming to himself, staring at the dull wall in front of him. His room was rather empty-looking for a child. The bed was as small as a bed could get, and was pushed into a corner of the room. A large rug covered most of the wooden floor- it was a small room. Erik did not have a closet, but a small dresser with two drawers for his few sets of clothing.

Erik did not like his room, but he was forced to spend quite some time there. Though he was allowed to eat meals with his family, he was not allowed to do much more. But Erik loved it when he was left home alone. Sometimes he did wonder what he was missing, but most of the time, he was happy, because it was the only time he could sneak into his parents room.

The only piano in the house was in there. When Erik played, it was like nothing he ever felt before. He could pour all of his emotions out on the black and white keys, and sometimes, he sang along, creating his own lyrics inside or outside of his head. Erik had been able to play for a little over two years now, and was impossibly talented for being so young. He had the most beautiful voice, but nobody to listen to it.

Now, Erik could hear guests arriving, the 'knock knock knock' echoing throughout the house. He was so tempted to go downstairs and join everybody. Through his small window, Erik could see boys his age walking with their mother's to the front door, holding paper-wrapped gifts and wearing big smiles. Erik watched them, counting, until he reached number twelve. He waited for ten minutes or so, and then guessed that everyone was here. But he was wrong.

A little girl scurried down the pavement, holding not one, but two gifts in her hands. _Two gifts for one person?_ Erik thought. _How peculiar_. The girl wore a pink dress and a white ribbon in her long, golden hair, but unlike the other children, she had come alone, without her mom or dad. Erik thought she looked familiar, and eventually recognized her as his neighbor. He had only met her once, when their family had come to welcome Erik's when they had first moved in. Erik could only remember that she was shy but kind, much like him, if he was given the chance.

Seeing all of the gifts that were being poured in, Erik suddenly remembered the small package in the corner of his room. It was William's present- he had to give it to him. Without much though, Erik scooped up the package and flitted down the stairs, needing to readjust his mask once he was down the staircase.

His eyes scoured the group of people, searching for his brother. Finally, he spotted him, talking to another boy with bright red hair. He scurried to him and waited politely until he was finished conversing. In mid-sentence, William's friend saw Erik and raised his eyebrows.

"Who is that?" He whispered loudly (and rather rudely) to William. William turned around and shot a get-out-of-here-right-now look to Erik.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I have your birthday present, William," Erik said nervously, feeling the other boy's eyes lingering on his mask. He held out the present and William didn't budge.

"Well?! Go put it on that table with the rest of the presents! Sheesh, Erik," he huffed, and shooed him away. Erik really wanted to see his brother's reaction, but only nodded and walked to the table, setting the package amongst the others. He was suddenly curious to see what his brother had received, but his curiosity vanished once he felt a hand on his shoulder.

The hand caused him to jump, startling the little boy.

"Erik, what are you doing down here? I specifically told you to stay up in your room." His mother said sternly.

"I was giving William his present, Mommy," Erik replied, nodding to the package. "For his birthday."

"Oh stop saying that, child. It's not just his birthday, it's yours too."

This surprised Erik. He really did have a birthday? But then why couldn't he have a party? Why didn't he get presents?

"It is?" Erik asked in a shocked tone, glancing up at his mother.

"Yes, of course it is, you two are twins for goodness sakes!" She raised her arms and then plopped them back down at her sides, making a 'thump'.

"Mommy, I want cake!" William unexpectedly appeared, tapping impatiently on his mother's back.

"Sure sweetie," her attention at Erik had immediately vanished. "Anything for the birthday boy." She wore a sickening smile that caused Erik's insides to feel funny.

"Oh, and tell _him_ to leave." William sneered. Without having to say a word, Erik's mother emitted anger onto Erik. Taking it as his cue to leave, he briskly exited the living room and sauntered towards the stairs, questions and confusion filling his head.

Why couldn't he stay? It was his birthday too, so why wasn't he being called the birthday boy?

Just as he was about to return to his room, he felt two taps on his shoulder. _Oh no, _he thought. _Daddy must have seen me… _

But it was not his father. It was his neighbor, the pretty girl with the big white bow on her head, who smiled gently at Erik.

"Where are you going?" She asked curiously.

"Upstairs. I'm not supposed to be down here," he said shyly. She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

"Why not? It's your birthday too, isn't it?" She inquired. Erik nodded slowly.

"I think so. But I have to go," he started back up the stairs, with fear that his mother or father might see him.

"Wait! I have something for you!" She stopped him, and Erik froze and turned around abruptly.

"For me?" He asked incredulously. "You have something for me?"

"Well, yeah," she grinned. "Happy Birthday."

"Happy Birthday..." he repeated in a whisper, staring at the yellow package that was now in his hands. Erik was trying to comprehend what had just happened. Had he really just received a birthday present? This was the first real present he had ever gotten!

The golden-haired girl waited for a reply, but Erik was so incredibly dumbstruck that he just stood there, staring at what lie in his arms. She shrugged after a couple of seconds, and skipped off to wherever her heart desired to go next.

A burst of excitement hit Erik like a brick wall. He had a birthday present! And he had to open it! As fast as his small feet would travel, he ran up the stairs with a huge smile plastered on his face, not able to contain his exhilaration. He breathlessly slammed the door to his room shut, plopping onto the bed, literally jumping to open his present.

Erik was not the kind of individual who rushed things, though. He savored the few good things that came up in his life. Carefully, he unlaced the brown string without damaging it, and then placed it gently at his side. The crinkled paper revealed a medium-sized box, and Erik vigilantly folded back the sides one by one, until his present was in front of him.

A pair of beady eyes stared at Erik, holding the same sadness his usually held. His fur was rough and lighter around the face, and frayed at the ears. It wore a tan colored garment, and was in a sitting position. The monkey held a small cymbal in each hand, which Erik could see were removable.

"Oh," he breathed, not finding any other words to say. It was so amazing to him- anything would have been. It was his only gift he had ever received.

With shaking hands, Erik ran his fingers over the stuffed monkey's face, then his hands, and then the two cymbals. Softly, he pushed the cymbals together, gasping at the sound they made. It may have been just a quiet 'ding' to any human's ears, but to Erik, it was much more. It was the sound of sunshine pouring over a meadow, flowers dancing in the wind. It reminded him of caramel or honey, the sound, a delicacy he had tried once before. Whatever it sounded like, it was beautiful.

Erik had never had a chance to thank the blessed girl who had given him a gift that would mean so much. The monkey became Erik's companion, a friend. No, it did not talk back, but it listened. And it produced such beautiful music, music that made Erik feel like he was not alone.

It was May 18th, now, several years later. Erik was not in his house anymore, and he was no longer seven. He was fifteen, and he was in the dark catacombs of the Paris Opera house. But one thing had not changed- he was still staring at the same monkey that had been with him all along.

In the darkness, he pressed the cymbals together and began to sing to himself quietly, in a sad, heartbreaking voice that made the night seem even darker.

"Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to Erik, happy birthday to me."

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**Please review- I reply to each and every one of them. Reviews make Erik happy, therefore, review make me happy.  
Thanks.**


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